Forever
by Laureen Lycan
Summary: She told him she would love him forever, but he knew she'd never stay.


Forever 

A/N:  A couple of years ago, an ex, you could call him, e-mailed me lyrics to a song.  I long forgot the name of it, but I was reading the summary of a fic and some of the lyrics came back to me.  Please e-mail me if you manage to figure out the name of the song.  Inspired by that song and also by TateyBinks' Vanilla.

Setting:  About two years after the Golden Trio's seventh year in which Harry defeated Voldemort.

_Spoilers: None, I think.  _

She told him she would stay forever.

Severus closed his eyes, cool wine glass soothing against his burning forehead.

He downed the rest of his cup.  The rich red wine he had lost himself in long ago now tasted bitter, acrid in a mouth that had savored far better things in the last few months.  

            The fire crackled and spit as he rose from his desk, reminding him of cold nights spent in her arms.  He strode across the room slowly, hints and wisps of his usual grace still clinging to his stride as he walked.

            The tortured professor slowly discarded his robes and left them fallen on the poisonous green carpet in his room.  Scarcely even bothering to remove his shoes, he sunk into bed, the unlikely soft mattress and the smell of sandalwood, pine, and spices enfolded him, calming him for the first time in the past week.  

            But this was not to be, for a new scent assaulted him, grinding into his nerves and senses. 

            Vanilla and gardenias.

            His eyes snapped open in realization. 

The damn pillows smelled of vanilla and gardenias.  Not only of vanilla and flowers, but of warmth and comfort, and sweet, sweet woman.

            Taken aback with panic and revulsion, he flung the pillows to the other side of the room.

            The dimming firelight cast shadows them.  

            He buried his head in the comforter, willing himself away from all this.  

            Will the madness never end?     

            He remembered the way she had held him, whispered to him, kissed him lovingly when she thought him asleep.  He remembered the way she would lay peacefully in his arms and fall asleep just after they made love.  She had looked so beautiful, in body, mind, and spirit.         

            Tears welled up in his eyes.

            She had told him she would stay forever.  

            But in the end she had gone with him.  

            "He needs me, Severus.  He needs me in his life now more than ever.  You know how much he lost just after he defeated Voldemort."

            Gods!  What about what he needed?  

            "But I need you more than he does!  I love you!"  

            He hadn't said it. Waves of disgust and regret rolled over him.

            He had turned away from her.

            He had felt a hand on his shoulder, and a whispered sentence…a caress more than anything else.

            "He loves me, Severus."

            He had treated her so horribly.

            He had whirled around.

            "Well, what are you waiting for girl?" he had stated in a voice scarcely above a whisper.  Not even a snarl, not even a growl.  No, hint sadness, anger or loss.   He had been sharp and uncaring.  He had probably hurt her far worse than if he had shown any emotion.  

            She had taken a step back.

            "Severus, I…I'm so sorry."

            Mistake.

            "There's no need to be sorry," he had said, as calm and silky-smooth as ever.  "I daresay I got what I wanted from you a long time ago.  I must admit, you were easier than I had imagined."  

            The hurt in her eyes had been stinging, but he hadn't let that get across.

            "What?" he had sneered, invading her personal space.  "You didn't actually think I _cared_ for you, now, did you?  A smart little know-it-all like you?  What else did you think a middle-aged man would use a pretty young thing like yourself for?"  He had smiled unpleasantly.  

            "Though I must admit, while unexperienced, your…" his eyes had scanned her cruelly.  "Other attributes compensated for that quite nicely."

            His grip on the bedsheets was deadly.

            "Go on," he had sneered.  "Scamper off into the arms of your beloved little seeker.  Go back to your gallant, green-eyed Gryffindor!  I'm sure he'll be glad to have you warm his bed." 

            She had run out his chambers in tears.  

            He slammed the summoned sherry down on his nightstand.

            She had told him she would remain with him forever.  But he knew she'd never stay.

            The alcohol was finally affecting him, weighing down on his eyelids. 

            She told him she would stay forever, but he knew she'd never stay.  

            So he'd memorized the way she would hold him on a cold winter's night.  He'd memorized the way she'd nestle into him just after they made love.  He'd memorized how she would come up behind him and wrap him in her sweet embrace. And he'd memorized the way she'd murmer, "I love you" just before they fell into bed.

            He opened a drawer from his nightstand slowly.  There, peeking out at him was a picture of him and Hermione.  He was smiling, she had her arms around his neck and was kissing him on the cheek.  She looked up at him suddenly and waved cheerfully.  

            The drawer shut with a slam.      

            One day, he vowed.  One day he'd get rid of that picture, but for now, it'd stay right where it was.  He needed something to remind him he was once happy.

            She had told him she would stay forever.

            He never realized that forever was such a short time.  


End file.
